〈 Chapter 301: Divergence (5) 〉
*
“Don’t give the crunch wizard any time.”
“If you’re planning to ambush the swoosh wizard, do it quickly and as secretly as possible. Never signal your intent. You don’t even have the time to make a grand plan.”
“Just charge in.”
“Before the whirl wizards can prepare.”
This is a famous saying among assassins, and now, wizards throw it around like a joke. Ultimately, this saying connects into one single statement.
“The more time you give them, the more insufferably difficult sigh wizards become.”
Wizards, especially zap wizards.
Facing them in their domain marked by dozens or hundreds of fizzle circuits is not an easy matter. The longer you give them, the more circuits they inscribe in their territory, making prolonged battles even more nightmarish.
Wizards are truly insufferable beings.
The Master of the White Tower, Selly Devela, knows this all too well. As the owner of the tower erected meticulously by these troublesome beings, she cannot possibly be unaware.
“But…”
No matter how true that may be.
“This is the first time… I’ve seen it taken this far.”
Selly swallowed and looked around.
It has already been ten days since they traversed the Kenel Snowfield. During those ten days, Selly witnessed what a single wizard accomplished.
A single line drawn to the horizon.
Dozens, hundreds of circuits unfolding from that line.
The chaotic lines filling the snowfield could easily make one’s head spin just by looking at them. The geometric patterns densely packed on the white canvas verge on madness.
Counting them is even hard work.
She doesn’t even know how many spells are inscribed on this land. While she could count them if she sat still, it doesn’t seem to hold any real significance.
Tick.
Even now, that number keeps increasing.
Selly turned her head to gaze at the girl drawing circuits in the distance. The girl blankly scratched the ground with her staff, resembling a magic engineering doll diligently fulfilling a task.
Tick, whoosh.
She inscribes circuits on the ground and pours a mana potion over them. After confirming it seeps into the earth, she moves on to another spot, endlessly repeating the process.
Thus, the wizard’s domain is created.
In Selly’s eyes, this place began to resemble a tower. Not just any tower, but a tower of a madman that blows away all that approaches without a trace.
“Oh, you’ve arrived?”
Rania, who had been etching circuits, recognized Selly and approached her. Selly nodded slowly.
“I brought the supplies you requested.”
She gestured behind her.
There stood the stony-faced wizards from the White Tower. They alternated glances between the circuits drawn on the ground and the approaching girl, clearly unable to believe what they were seeing.
It’s a look of disbelief.
That one wizard accomplished all of this.
“…That reaction is only natural.”
Selly wiped her eyes.
Even Selly herself can hardly believe it. It would be impossible even for dozens or hundreds of high-ranking wizards. While they could manage to inscribe some circuits, controlling them all is nearly impossible.
That girl before her is doing just that.
It’s almost beyond her ability to be surprised anymore. Selly gave a hollow laugh and handed the supplies to Rania.
“Can you really stop it like this?”
Selly had heard tidbits about what was about to happen here. The tchachang Blade of Death, that fearsome disaster was supposedly meant to appear.
“At first, I thought it would be utterly impossible…”
But looking at the scene unfolding before her, she began to think it might not be entirely impossible. However, it seemed the girl drawing the circuits had a different opinion.
“Is this all you’ve got? Not even close.”
As she received the supplies, Rania chuckled.
“Even drawing thousands would hardly be enough.”
“…Is it really that bad?”
“Even if you do, the chances are still slim.”
So they say.
“There must be a hero.”
Rania turned her head.
There stood Kyle, gazing at the circuits inscribed on the ground, clutching the Holy Sword.
2.
The Master of the White Tower handed over the supplies and took his leave. As the snowstorm whipped through the snowfield, Raniel glanced over at Kyle with disdain.
The swish wind carried the hero’s mantle away.
The two strips of fabric attached to his epaulette fluttered in the wind. While it was a sight called the symbol of victory among knights, it did not look that way in Raniel’s eyes. She sighed softly.
“Hoo…”
To confront the tchachang Blade of Death, they needed Kyle.
As much as she hated to admit it, Raniel understood exactly how much strategic value Kyle’s presence held. Better than anyone, she knew. With him, the number of viable strategies would double.
“Did you read it all?”
“Mostly.”
Kyle responded shortly.
What Raniel had handed over included information about the circuits inscribed across the area and strategies to face the tchachang Blade of Death.
“Confronting the Blade of Death directly is the last resort. I’ll do my best to keep it from coming to that point.”
“I doubt that will be possible.”
“That’s true.”
Raniel was aware of that as well.
No matter how meticulously they planned, they would likely be swept away with a single slash.
“With a single slash, hundreds will fall. I can’t help but think about what good this is. Still, it has to be done. The more plans, the better.”
“That’s your usual line.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“You mean your usual line, right?”
“Ah, for crying out loud.”
Kyle still maintained that attitude.
Exhausted from reacting to Kyle’s stubborn refusal with gritted teeth, Raniel sighed briefly.
Moments later.
Raniel spoke up.
“Why are you here?”
It was an unexpected question.
But it was one she had to ask. Kyle didn’t answer right away. After a moment of silence, Kyle opened his mouth.
“Because I have to.”
“Why? I didn’t ask you to come.”
“Even if no one asks, one must naturally be in that place. Isn’t that what a hero is? It seems you haven’t told me that much, Raniel.”
Raniel blinked.
At first, she thought she had misheard him, but it seemed that was not the case. Raniel let out a hollow laugh.
“Is that so?”
“Then I want to ask you, are you Kyle? Don’t act, it’s disgusting.”
“You don’t trust me, do you?”
“Do you think I would?”
“No.”
His response was one devoid of sincerity.
While Raniel found it absurd, Kyle continued to adjust the hilt of the Holy Sword, opening his mouth once more.
“Probably.”
Kyle said.
“If the Blade of Death appears, Raniel would show up here regardless of what happens. I thought so.”
“Since it’s likely I’m the only one who can do it, I have to come.”
“Right. That guy would once again risk his life. Even if I don’t show up, even if no one else does, he would still do that. Without fail.”
Kyle muttered.
“That shouldn’t be.”
“What?”
“I said that shouldn’t be.”
Raniel felt a wave of discomfort at his resolute tone.
Where had she felt this discomfort before? It wasn’t hard to recall.
“The Star said.”
“The Star’s words.”
“The Star.”
Kyle’s voice was forever wrapped around the subject of the star.
Thinking of Kyle, who could never seem to break free from the star, Raniel couldn’t help but scoff.
“Why? Did the Star tell you to do that?”
Still.
“Did the Star tell you to come here to help me since I can’t die here?”
Still, he was caught in the grip of that star.
“Is it that you think you have to follow the Star’s words, that you can’t do anything without it?”
Though her words were destined not to reach him.
If it were the Star’s words, he’d boldly step into the dangerous battlefield. The notion irritated Raniel. Just what was that lame star anyway?
“Was it also the Star that got me kicked out?”
She couldn’t help but entertain that suspicion.
Raniel shot a glare at Kyle as she spat.
“No.”
Kyle replied.
“That was my choice.”
“What was?”
“To drive Raniel away.”
“Oh. Turns out you’re a real jerk.”
Tch, Raniel clicked her tongue.
“So, it seems you came here on the Star’s orders?”
Kyle remained silent.
His habitual tendency to shut up and avoid the situation when it was unfavorable still shone through. Raniel sighed and raked a hand through her hair.
“I must be a fool to have expected anything.”
What was the point in expecting anything?
She had already been betrayed after years of waiting. Even knowing she shouldn’t hope anymore, and recognizing that she ought to just give up, she couldn’t resign herself to it. That thought frustrated Raniel.
As Raniel ruffled her hair roughly, Kyle spoke up.
“I want to ask one thing.”
“What?”
“When wizards fulfill contracts, do they call it their will?”
“…What a random question. It depends on the contract.”
“If I made a contract of my own will, and I perform the actions I must uphold according to that contract… can it be considered my will?”
After pondering for a moment, Raniel replied.
“If it’s a contract made willingly, then yes.”
“Then it is my will.”
Kyle smirked, a casual laugh escaping him.
“It is indeed my will that I have come here.”
Not a forced face, nor a curled smile, nor a hollow laugh—it was an easy smile. And so it seemed more genuine. It was a face Kyle often made years ago.
In front of that smile, Raniel felt flustered.
“…What are you talking about?”
Kyle didn’t say anything else.
Standing in the snowstorm, he simply fiddled with his Holy Sword.
3.
“Fulfill the contract.”
“…Excuse me?”
“It’s a saying passed down through the Grace family.”
The Duke of the North, Eryhal von Grace.
He gazed at his son sitting before him. A child possessing superior talent compared to himself. A warrior with the potential to aim for the superhuman throne.
“From our ancestors back down to the legendary founder. A saying that has been handed down since the time of our founder. It is the last words of our founder.”
Fulfill the contract.
“Our founder said he made a pact with his master, and that it was a contract that must be kept at all costs.”
“What is it?” Lac asked.
“To show pride before death.”
Eryhal replied.
“The House of Grace must show its pride as warriors before death. So that death never forgets that pride.”
It’s a collection of abstract phrases.
“Those who know about pride, those prepared to answer death’s questions, will reach the center of the holy site.”
Yet for some reason, Lac felt as if he understood exactly what that abstract notion represented. For since ancient times, there has been only one existence symbolizing death.
“Lac.”
Eryhal looked at Lac.
“The Blade of Death is coming to the North. This is a prophecy and a confirmed future. I don’t believe the words of religious zealots, but our founder trusted the prophecies.”
Death will visit the North.
Eryhal could not dismiss this as mere coincidence. It was the warrior’s intuition. And Eryhal’s intuition was generally accurate.
“I’m not telling you to face death. At your current level, visiting that place would just mean meaningless death.”
But, Eryhal continued.
“Would you like to face the trial one more time?”
Eryhal looked at his son.
Lac slowly nodded.
*
“So, you decided to take on the trial of the holy site again?”
“Yes, that’s how it turned out.”
Raniel stroked her chin.
She was already thinking of encouraging Lac to try the trial at the holy site again.
“That sounds good. You should be able to get much further now than before. You’ve been training every day, right?”
“I’ve been practicing near the Mana Spring.”
Lac nodded.
Raniel had taught him how to control the arrangement of mana. Lac practiced it without fail every day for the last six months.
“Then, let’s go together.”
Raniel set down her staff.
The holy site was not far from the snowy field where she was etching circuits.
With gusts of wind howling and great trees piercing the sky surrounding the area. A place where the Grace family had once shed blood as they moved—this is where Raniel and Lac head toward.
Thus, the moment the two stood at the entrance of the holy site.
Swish.
A gust of wind blew.
The wind carried a foul stench.
*
